


Navigation of the Heart

by BloodSeiryu



Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28556226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodSeiryu/pseuds/BloodSeiryu
Summary: What do you do when your soul is lost? When you can't find yourself nor the love you thought you once had. Stolas and Blitzø need some serious guidance. Thankfully, a certain Marchioness may just have the solution that finally brings these two demons together.
Relationships: Blitzo/Stolas Goetia, Millie/Moxxie (Helluva Boss), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 61
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into the exciting world of Helluva Boss fanfiction~! I have a few other ideas brewing but I decided to put this one out here first. I hope it's enjoyable and eye-catching. Questions, Comments, etc. are oh so welcome! I enjoy reading and responding to them; I love interacting with everyone on here ♥

Stolas was bored, transcendentally bored. He honestly only showed up at this ritzy how you do because his wife had insisted upon it; image and all that. If he were being sincere with himself, he would much rather be home tending to his plants, spending time with his daughter, or attempting to get in some alone time with his darling Imp. Any of these activities were far more enjoyable than wandering around and taking part in discussions about the latest issues with territories, the importance of financial expansion, or the relentless mocking of the  _ plebeians _ that roamed the surrounding city.  
  


The Prince sighed as he looked down into his champagne glass, only half paying attention to what his current group of acquaintances were chattering on about. His wife, thankfully, was off somewhere with a gaggle of ladies, otherwise, she would admonish him for not behaving to a higher standard.

“Why Stolas! What seems to have you so preoccupied? Must be something dire if my company isn’t enough to keep your attention!”

A boisterous laugh rang out, full of mirth and the teasing tones one would think to only find among close friends. However, Sitri was merely a fellow Goetia Prince that Stolas had the most dealings with. One supposes Stolas  _ could  _ call him a friend, possibly even a father figure, if the owl demon wasn’t positive his innermost thoughts and feelings would be shunned just as violently as if he had told them to some upper class stranger.

Putting on a forced smile, Stolas forced a laugh and placed a hand over his chest.

“Flattering yourself as always, though that is why we like you,” the rest of the group joined in on the laughter, though theirs was far more genuine, “No, I was merely pondering the vintage of the beverage our delightful host set out for us tonight. I simply must inquire.”

With his excuse in place, Stolas pardoned himself from the group and began making his way over to the table upon which the many refreshments and cuisine for the night lay in an ornate and visually pleasant arraignment. Once he was safely away from prying eyes and inquisitive mouths, Stolas allowed his mind to once again wonder. He wondered what Octavia was doing. He and her mother had told her that they would most likely be home quite late, well past her designated “bedtime”. Stolas smiled to himself. Knowing her she would stay up well past that, listening to music, eating what junk food she could find (Stolas tried to keep a good amount stocked just for her despite his wife’s protests), before watching a movie or two and passing out on one of the couches. He would then be tasked with taking her to bed and tucking her in like he did when she was nothing more than an owlet. Such thoughts brought both happiness and bitterness to his throat. He loved his daughter dearly, but the fact of the matter was that she was growing up. She soon wouldn’t need her daddy anymore and that greatly pained the Prince. Octavia was the only light in his sorry excuse for a life.

Well, other than a certain Imp.

Stolas’s smile grew in its proportion and a light blush coated the feathers along his cheeks at the thought of Blitzø. He busied himself with picking out a few nibbles and sipping on a new glass of champagne as his thoughts raced. Blitzø was probably in the middle of some high stakes job up amongst the living; that or he was at home, resting, without Stolas able to offer to keep him company.

Reaching into his pocket, Stolas brought out his phone and discreetly checked Blitzø’s Voxtagram account. No new posts. Well, then that most certainly meant he was busy with a client’s demands upon the Surface. Placing his phone back in his pocket, Stolas nervously began chewing on a Gougère. Logically he knew that Blitzø and his entourage were highly capable of doing their jobs…...especially Blitzø with his amazing strength and intellect, his  _ pulsating  _ muscles, and his  _ flexibility  _ to adapt to any situation. Not to mention his  _ slender  _ tongue that could talk him out of trouble if he needed it and that  _ thick _ ……

Stolas dropped the remainder of the Gougère he was finishing onto the floor as the hand that had been holding it swiftly reached up and covered his now completely red face. It was a miracle that the champagne glass he had been holding as well did either shatter in his hand or on the well polished floor along with the mostly eaten Gougère. Thankfully he had been able to hold on to some decorum in that respect. Mostly he just didn’t wish to draw any attention to himself, particularly from his wife.

Making a swift turn around, Stolas found an out of the way table and made his home at it, champagne glass set aside as he placed his face in both his hands. He didn’t know why Blitzø reduced him to a horny teenager, yet here they were. The delightful Imp didn’t even have to be around Stolas, hell the Prince didn’t even have to be talking to Blitzø for his core to become wet with passion as of late. His desire was getting stronger, his love was getting stronger and there was nothing Stolas could do about it. Sure he had been trying to reel the Imp in, but nothing seemed to be working! Blitzø had to be interested right? After all, he kept coming back to him for their Full Moon deal. Fuck, sometimes they would have sex outside the Full Moon if Stolas pleaded hard enough. Also, there had been that one time Stolas had come over for a Movie Night. Blitzø had merely claimed it was because he was bored and lonely and Stolas was his last resort, but it had been fun nonetheless. Oh! And there had been that sweet and thoughtful care package that Blitzø had personally made and delivered to him when he had been sick. Such a romantic gesture.

Surely someone who didn’t have feelings wouldn’t  **do** such things, yes?

Then why was he being so difficult?

There was suddenly a stirring, a commotion if you will. Nothing that you would see on the streets of Hell, just simple raised whispers and shuffling about; a clear high class sign that something was amiss. It was enough to get Stolas to raise his head and have him forget about his troubles, if only for a moment. It wasn’t every day that a commotion caused such a rile in the ranks. Perhaps something exciting was about to happen?

Stolas was surprised to see that the mere upset was a latecomer, a Marchioness. What was particularly odd was the absence of her husband. Perhaps he had other more important matters to attend to? Either way, it was seen as unbecoming of a Marchioness to be out without her husband at her side. Personally, Stolas believed a wife could go anywhere without being tied to the arm of her betrothed or consort, but that was the world he lived in; backward and old style of thinking to the bitter end.

The whispers grew louder and harsher when a delightful little Imp came into view. She was dressed just as stylish and beautiful as the Marchioness, perhaps even more so. She looked rather uncomfortable what with all the staring and obvious judgemental comments, however, after the Marchioness knelt down, whispered into her ear, and planted a delicate kiss upon her cheek, the Imp perked up immediately; she held her head high and a smile that spoke of confidence and a complete disregard for anyone else in the room except her Marchioness shone so brightly, Stolas was afraid he’d go blind!

There was a story here and Stolas found himself quite desperate to find out what it was else he’d go mad.

“Ah yes, the Marchioness, Marchosia.”

Stolas was brought out of his musings by the voice of his wife. He looked over his shoulder to find her standing there, the same look of contempt and disgust on her face as the others. Upon hearing the Marchioness name, however, something in Stolas’s brain seemed to click on.

“Oh yes! The wife of the Marquis, Aamon, yes? Didn’t he have the misfortune of passing recently?”

Stella visibly scoffed at her husband’s naivety, or what she perceived as such.

“That’s the story. However, the logical truth is that she murdered him herself, just so she could marry that deplorable Imp that’s trailing at her heels,” Stella turned the disgust she was showering onto the couple and directed it onto her husband, her feathers slightly bristling, “You should go introduce yourself. After all, you both enjoy conducting yourselves in the same shameful manner. You’d get along quite well in my opinion!”

Stolas could feel a headache brewing as he began rubbing both temples with his long and dexterous fingers.

“Stella, this is neither the time nor the place for this sort of conversation.”

Thankfully, Stolas’s wife’s feathers seemed to relax, however, a sarcastic and degrading tone still dripped from her beak when she spoke.

“You’re right my darling. I should hold myself to the same high standard that you hold yourself. That being said, I am going to grab some more refreshments for myself and the girls and make my way back to civilized conversation.”

As Stella made her exit, she leered over her shoulder at her husband, making one last piercing final remark.

“Oh, and I suggest you do the same. Such a pathetic picture you paint, sitting here by yourself. What will the others think, seeing you like this? I did not bring you here to wallow in whatever fantasy you have going on in your daydreaming head. Grow up and perform your duties like the rest of us.”

With that, the dark cloud over his life dissipated, though no rainbow was left in its wake. Stolas was left feeling even more depressed and heartbroken than before. Maybe Stella was right. Maybe his love for Blitzø was nothing more than a daydream, a fantasy that he concocted in his head to make his boring and miserable life more bearable. If anything from his day trip to Loo Loo Land with his daughter taught him, it was that he was shite at listening. Maybe he wasn’t listening to Blitzø. Maybe there were no hidden feelings and the Imp truly did hate him. 

Stolas could feel tears forming in his crimson eyes, threatening to overflow. Hell, the energy it took to keep his emotions at bay, he was just too emotionally exhausted. Dealing with Stella, thinking about his shortcomings with Octavia, the pressures of what was always expected of him...the thought of losing Blitzø, of never having him in the first place; it was too much.

He silently wept, hoping no one would notice. Someone did, however, and they joined him at the table, silently holding out a handkerchief for him to take. Without thinking, Stolas took the offered material and dabbed at his eyes, soaking up the tears that had fallen and those that continued to fall.

“Thank you. I apologize for such unbecoming behavior, especially in such a place. A Prince should have things more together, though, considering the circumstances, I suppose a slip up was bound to happen,” Stolas blew his nose as quietly as he could before folding the napkin and dabbing more at his eyes, “I would very much appreciate it if you didn’t broadcast this little embarrassment to the rest of the crowd.”

A voice that was as soft as feathers floating upon the wind, yet at the same time, held a fearsome power that commanded attention rang out from the chair situated horizontally from Stolas’s space from across the table.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Though, to be honest, I don’t find your behavior to be unbecoming at all.”   
  


Stolas finally drew his attention from himself to find out exactly who he was talking to. Before him sat a Goetia Wolf Demon with mighty wings that spread out and caressed the polished floor. The feathers were alternating shades of grey, while her fur coat was a mesmerizing shade of black; Stolas could almost swear he could see the stars scattered amongst the delicate strands. She did have one patch of fur that did stand out, a white splotch that reminded Stolas of a snake, cascading down her forehead, stopping between her golden irises. 

The Marchioness Marchosia.

Those golden dipped irises suddenly turned away from him, looking off into the distance. 

“Emotions are a natural part of ones existence. To deny them is to deny that one even breathes. Besides,” and here she turned back to look at him with a devilish smirk on her face that would have made Lucifer himself proud, “I’m not really one to find these pompous simple minded fools rules and beliefs to be of any actual merit.”

Before Stolas could respond, the Imp that had come in with Marchosia appeared next to their table with two glasses of  rosé wine in her delicate hands. Thankfully the party had Imps surviving, otherwise, Stolas was sure that she wouldn’t have been able to get any sort of service without Marchosia at her side. Handing them both to Marchosia, the little Imp then climbed up onto the chair that was situated between them and gave them both a smile that could most certainly light up the entire room if it had not already been lit.

“Hello! I hope I’m not interrupting anything! Please excuse me for not bringing an extra drink. I didn’t know that Mari was going to have company!”

Marchosia laughed and shook her head with fondness, stroking one of the horns that protruded from the Imp’s head.

“It’s quite alright Xuna. I am sure Prince Stolas will forgive you this one time.” 

Meanwhile, Stolas was hardly listening to the conversation that was being had right in front of him. All he could focus on was the single word that had come out of (Xuna’s?) mouth. Mari. Obviously an affectionate nickname like the one he gave to Blitzø. Oh, his darling Blitzy. How he wanted to be with just him right now!

The fresh tears that began silently tumbling down Stolas’s feathered cheeks did not go unnoticed by his new companions. Xuna looked shocked while Marchosia’s face remained calm. She took a small sip of her wine before whispering to Stolas if he would like to go someplace more private. There was a beautiful garden outside that would do wonders for the eyes and nose, not to mention would be a good way to stretch ones legs. Stolas declined, saying that he only needed a few moments to compose himself, thanking them for being so patient and accepting.

Once Stolas was himself again, or as close as he was going to accomplish tonight, Marchosia leaned forward until her elbows rested on the table, her fingers locked together with her chin resting against them. She had a look that a close friend would give another, which was odd considering the two had only officially met a moment ago. However, that was Marchosia’s way. Don’t let that streak of light fool you though. There was a reason that she was known for having a liking for depraved violence.

“Prince Stolas, there is obviously something very serious bothering you and I pray that you let me and my wife help you.”

Ah! So the rumors about her and her Imp being married  **were** true! Stolas felt his own heart skip a beat. Here he was, feeling like a songbird locked in a cage, being forbidden to sing, unable to truly live the life he wanted, with who he wanted; yet here was someone of his own caste who had broken free of that cage and was doing the one thing he desired the most.

Maybe she could help.

Stolas cleared his throat, gathering up the courage he needed to state his case as it were.

“Well, you see, I have this friend…”

Marchosia raised an eyebrow and smirked, leaning back in her chair with her arms now crossed over her chest, her bosom pushed out defiantly. The blood-red gown that she wore swam with her movements, the sheer fabric that had been draped over her arms now being pushed over her bare shoulders. The only thing keeping the fabric in place was that it was somehow connected to the detached collar around her neck. Her new position also gave Stolas a clear view of her waistline, a single star shaped decor place right in the center. Quite a lovely piece. Stolas made a mental note to ask her who designed her clothing later.

Meanwhile, Marchosia was not buying the “friend” routine, but she let it slide, for now.

“Please continue your grace.”

Stolas swallowed and nodded.

“Yes, well, you see,” his four crimson eyes were looking everywhere but Marchosia or Xuna at this point, “my friend has this personal problem; a personal problem that runs so deep that I am severely afraid for his well-being and mental state.”

Marchosia had completely forgotten about her wine at this point, her focus entirely on Stolas. Meanwhile, Xuna was with rapt attention as she continued to gulp down her drink. Stolas could feel tears begin to prickle at the corner of his eyes, just at the mere thought of what he was about to say next, but he somehow managed to hold them back. To this day, he still has no idea how he managed such a feat.

“All his life, he has been told what has been expected of him and he has performed adequately. Prearranged hobbies, an arranged marriage since birth, appropriate social gatherings. For years he had been fine with that until,” Stolas steadied himself for the big reveal as it were, “until he experienced love for the first time.”

Marchosia’s eyebrows raised up as high as they could reach. She most certainly was not expecting  **that** sort of admission. Stolas’s breathing began becoming labored. Most likely from him doing his damn hardest to keep his emotions in check.

“Do not take what I say lightly. This isn’t some infatuation that can be balmed by the occasional affair that our kind occasionally partake in. This is a love that he never felt for his wife, never had the chance to feel before; passionate, delicate, romantic, completely all consuming. He honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself most of the time.”

Marchosia nodded, a look of understanding crossing her features. She understood that feeling quite well. One of her hands absentmindedly wandered over and began tracing patterns on one of Xuna’s horns. There was something that was bothering her though, a piece of the puzzle that she was missing; an important piece if you will. One that she had a feeling she wasn’t going to get out of Stolas unless she pried just right.

“You will have to excuse me for saying, but if your friend is so in love with this other person, can he not just divorce his wife and take on this new one? It wouldn’t be the first time a fellow Prince or Duke has grown sick of his partner and has traded in for a newer model.”

It was true, the male demon counterparts had much more freedom than the females. Granted, it wasn’t uncommon for either side to take lovers, but only the husband had the power to dismiss his consort and take on another. The only way a female demon was allowed to “remarry” was if her husband had the misfortune of dying. Marchosia smirked at this.

Stolas shook his head, a lone tear actually escaping.

“If only it were that simple. This isn’t some high noble he is in love with! It is...it...is…”

Both Marchosia and Xuna leaned very far forward onto the table, Xuna practically laying her entire body upon its surface considering how short she was. The next words out of Stolas’s mouth were said barely above a whisper.

“An Imp.”

Well, it looks like there was more in common between her, Xuna, and this “friend” than Marchosia thought! However, there was still more to this story, she could tell. Far more than could ever be discussed here, especially in front of these sorts of demons. Reaching over to another table, Marchosia picked up a, what she hoped to be, an unused napkin. She then used her fire magic to write the location of her palace upon it before she slipped the offering to the clearly still distraught Prince. She then removed herself from her seat, Xuna quickly following. After ruffling out her abused feathers, Marchosia smiled down at Stolas.

“You will find the address to my place upon that napkin. Have your  _ friend _ meet me and Xuna there for tea tomorrow. During that time I swear we will find a solution to the problems that plague him.”

With a simple customary wave, and one much more enthusiastic from Xuna, both demons began making their way to the exit. Apparently, they figured they had overstayed their welcome and had decided it was best for them to leave. What Stolas wouldn’t give to do the same.

Looking down upon the address he had been given, he mulled over the implications. Could he really go through with this? Could he really open himself up to the possibility of being with Blitzø? What if it didn’t work? What if it all blew up in his face? He trusted Marchosia, that much he knew. The uncertain cogs in this equation were Blitzy and Stolas’s own ability not to fuck everything up.

He silently hoped that Stella didn’t have any special plans for their tea time tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit a bit of a rut for a while but managed to climb somewhat out of it and produce this lovely piece for you all~
> 
> Seriously, I hope this chapter is as good as the first one was. We're just getting into the meat of the matter so expect the "first steps into setting these boys on the right track" here soon.
> 
> Love you guys and all your comments! ♥

Stolas stood and admired the structure that toward above him. The palace was understandably gigantic, all Goetia Demons had lavish lifestyles after all. Still, Stolas could still admire the architecture. High towers with dome tops, decorated with a dark blue palate with some soft white dotting certain areas. Gold also outlines the trim, while the windows themselves seemed to reflect the power that lay within. There were also jewels of the sapphire family strategically placed within the oceans of white. What really caught Stolas’s attention though was the lovely fountain placed in the middle of the driveway. Crystal clear water constantly flowed as if propelled by magic, the scattered flora seemingly drawn to the sound. He also noticed two banners situated near the front door, the family crest etched quite noticeably on them. It was quite odd to see such a thing still standing after the Marquis death, though perhaps it was kept out of respect? An _ in memorandum  _ as it were, lending credence to the fact that the Marchioness Marchosia did not in fact kill her husband as the rumours claimed.

Walking up to the stark white double doors, Stolas knocked, the sound sending a deep echo rumbling through the halls on the other side. Stolas felt his stomach drop. What was he doing? Was he seriously going to meet with the Marchioness to discuss his  **love life** ? No, no this was a bad idea. He should just turn around and go about his life like he had been doing. Things would sort themselves out on their own, yes? Yes, of course!

Before he could turn around, however, the doors opened to reveal an Imp dressed in a wonderfully pressed and tailored suit. A butler perhaps? He looked much more stylish than his and Stella’s butler that was for sure, and much more...content? No that wasn’t the word. Carefree. Almost as if he enjoyed his job.

“You are Prince Stolas I presume, yes?”

Such a deep and soothing voice coming from such a creature! Stolas honestly found himself becoming quite flustered upon hearing it. While said Imp was nowhere near as attractive as his Blitzy, a faint blush still coated Stolas’s feathery cheeks while he had to clear his throat a few times in order to get his speech and thought patterns back on track.

“Um...yes, yes I am? I mean, yes, yes I am.”

The butler waved one of his arms aside, inviting Stolas inside the home. The inside was just as extravagant as the outside, if not more so. However, Stolas was not given much time to admire as he was quickly ushered in the direction of what he assumed was where the Marchioness and her wife were waiting.

“The Marchioness has laid out tea in the garden. I hope that will be to your liking?”

Stolas felt himself perk up immediately at the mention of a garden.

“Oh really? That will be quite lovely actually! I’m actually quite fond of gardens, plants and the like. Gardening is actually one of my hobbies. It will be nice to see what the Marchioness has!”

Stolas didn’t know why, but he found himself quite relaxed around this family’s butler. Almost like he was an old friend. Said Imp chuckled fondly, obviously finding Stolas to be quite amusing.

“While the Marchioness has many hobbies, it is actually her wife who has taken up the hobby of the seeds,” his eyes glinted as he gave Stolas a small smile, “Do ask her about it when you get the chance. She loves talking about it.”

Stolas’s smile widened as he enthusiastically agreed upon doing so. Upon arriving at a white decorative double grated door, the Prince was once more addressed before the butler took his leave.

“If there is anything that you need or desire, please do not hesitate to ask for assistance.”

Stolas smiled, a look of genuine fondness gracing his features.

“And by what name do I call you by?”

The impressively dressed Imp that, now that Stolas really paid attention, looked to be  **much** older than his Blitzy, smiled back before answering,

“You may call me Carson, Prince Stolas.”

With a nod, Carson departed, leaving Stolas to venture forth into the garden by himself. What Stolas found there left him both breathless and stunned for words. In fact, Stolas was pretty sure that his demonic heart had actually stopped. He was on a stone path constructed via much smaller stones of varying textures and colourless tints. This weaved through well manicured grass that was the most vibrant green Stolas had ever laid his eyes upon. To the untrained eye, there were graphite coloured stones haphazardly littered about, however, to a demon of culture, one could tell that they all had their strategic place; framing the trees and bouts of lavender quite nicely.

What really was the centerpiece to this obvious masterpiece was the stream that followed through the right side of the garden, ending at its center. Pristine porcelain stones littered the edge of the water, creating a makeshift path for the rivulets of clear liquid to follow; the sound of the cascading collision against these rocks enveloped Stolas like a warm relaxing blanket. Along the banks were blasts of colour. So much that Stolas was afraid he’d go blind! The calming sensuality of lavender, the bright fire of Coreopsis, the soft caress of the Azalea mixed with the magical properties of the Buddleja Davidii. What really caught Stolas's eye though was the small patches of Lilium, obviously a homage to their beloved Queen Lilith.

Suddenly an exuberant and high-pitched voice broke through Stolas’s musings, bringing his attention to the exact center of the garden. A table had been set up with three chairs surrounding it, a very nice tea set laid out with an even more delicious biscuit spread. Among that set up was a very excited Xuna, jumping and waving in Stolas’s direction. The little Imp was wearing what looked to be a black checkered skirt with a matching bodice. A white frilly dress shirt was worn underneath, a black bowtie finishing off the ensemble.

She honestly looked rather adorable.

Her red tail swished back and forth, as she ran up to meet him. Yelling loudly about how excited she was that he actually came, how she and Mari were worried that he would “flake out” and that they would have had to intervene on their own merit and even flimsier intuition. So, it seems that the Marchioness had plans to interfere with his life regardless of whether he showed up or not. Best that he did then. Stolas couldn’t imagine the fall out if he had not.

He actually shuddered at the thought. 

As Xuna got closer, Stolas started to notice things that he had been too absorbed in his own trials and grief to notice before. For starters, she had the most beautiful hair he had ever seen on an Imp, long and obsidian; currently tied up in the most charming of braids. Also, she had a few white freckles that dusted her cheeks; quite charming actually. She also, unsurprisingly, wore a crown, signifying her place in the Goetia Royal Family. It fit quite nicely around her horns, custom made obviously and with such love and attention.

Xuna quickly grabbed his hand and practically dragged him to the table, still bouncing, still filled with unmistakable joy. Honestly, it was extremely infectious. Granted, Stolas had only met one other occupant of the house (Carson), but a sense of high spirits and cheerfulness seemed to blanket the household. A harsh contrast to the own dark and hopeless atmosphere of his own.

Once he and Xuna were seated across from one another, the vibrant Imp began pouring each of them a fresh cup of tea. It smelled distinctly of jasmine if Stolas was to put a name to it, and upon taking a careful sip, was rewarded with immediate confirmation. He made sure to compliment upon the delightful drink choice.

Xuna blushed, the crimson of her skin doing well to hide the pink flush of her sudden overwhelming embarrassment.

“Thank you. Mari and I picked it out. We thought it would be a nice and calming choice considering the serious subject matter we were going to discuss,” Xuna paused here and looked toward the garden entrance, “Speaking of, Mari should be showing up soon. She was just finishing up her lessons when I was setting up out here so I’d give her another five or ten minutes to get freshened up properly.”

Stolas tilted his head in curiosity.

“Lessons?”

Xuna nodded enthusiastically, grabbing a biscuit and waving it around wildly.

“Oh yes! Mari does martial arts training every day! Kung Fu, Arnis, Karate, Jujitsu, Krav Maga, and Kenjutsu! She is quite masterful at it!” Xuna suddenly got a very faraway look on her face, the tint of pink on her making a comeback, though this time it was highly noticeable despite the scarlet pigment to her skin, “I like to watch her sometimes. If you think she’s beautiful when she is just existing, watching her fight...it’s like a whole new side of her comes out. A ferocious beast just starving for blood, the need to find it, bathe in it. All that power held inside a core deep within her body, yet she refuses to unleash it against her family. Such restraint is both admirable and quite attractive.”

Stolas sipped his tea in silence as he let Xuna get lost in her daydreams. He knew how precious those could be, he had many of them himself. Unlike her though, most of his stayed just that -- daydreams, fantasies. Perhaps that is why he didn’t let her mind wander for too long before he spoke once more.

“Speaking of lessons, your butler Carson says you have your own lessons of sorts? Gardening was it?”

At the mention of her own means of pastime, Xuna shook her head, ridding it of all the  _ dirty naughty _ thoughts, and perked back up.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it a lesson by any means, more like a hobby? Though I suppose you could have called it lessons when I was teaching myself through trial and error,” Xuna laughed at the memories of her failed planting attempts and the horrid stenches that usually followed, “You really should have seen me in my early days. The results would have terrified you!”

Stolas echoed her laughter, remembering his own beginnings as a gardener. It really was a labor of love and, by the look of the garden now, Xuna was a natural at it.

“Well as a fellow gardener, I have to say I am quite impressed with your choice of plants and set up. Perhaps we could exchange notes? I would be honored to hear what tips and tricks you have hidden under your sleeve.”

At the mention of conspiring together on gardening, Xuna’s eyes lit up brighter than the full moon that graced Hell each month.

“Truly?! If you’re serious, I have a notebook I can let you borrow! Just remind me when we’re done here and I can give it to you before you leave!”

An authentic smile graced Stolas’s features (he had been producing those a lot since he arrived here), quite excited to peruse the carefully crafted notes of Xuna’s inner decorative mind.

“I am looking quite forward to it.”

At that moment, the steel gates opened up and the Marchioness came through, her presence giving off an air of immediate dominance, yet tendrils of soft elegance and compassion still shone through. Despite being told that she had been taking part in combat lessons earlier, one would not have been able to tell by looks alone. Marchosia was wrapped in a long satin red gown, its style obviously taken from traditional Chinese cheongsam. The golden designs that trailed along the base of the gown, as well as along the breast and arms, reminded Stolas of a phoenix about to take flight. It was certainly a regal yet relaxed look. 

Marchosia quickly made her way to where the pair sat, taking a moment to kiss her beloved wife on the lips before making her way to the seat between them.

“My apologies for being so late, though I trust Xuna was able to keep you entertained?”

Marchosia gave her wings a quick shake, water droplets scattering into the winds. Stolas surmised that she had just come from either a bath or a shower. He for one preferred baths, much more relaxing and sensual. However, Marchosia struck him more like a demon who preferred quick and easy, so a shower was more likely. 

Especially when there were guests to tend to.

Making herself a cup of jasmine tea and laying a few biscuits upon her plate, Marchosia took a moment to savour the buttery textures, her wolfish tongue sliding out and lapping up the stray crumbs that tried to escape. She encouraged her companions to do the same, as the treats were not as good when they were not fresh, and serious talk was not to be made during the consumption of sweets. So they talked of lighter things: Xuna mentioning a new type of flower she wished to try out in her garden, something called a Jade Vine. Stolas talked about his daughter Octavia at great length while Marchosia merely smiled and listened, tossing in a comment or two when she deemed it appropriate. 

Once all three were filled with good tea, delicious indulgences, and great company, Marchosia figured it was time to get down to the reason why she had invited Stolas here in the first place. Placing her chin within the paw that was closest to her prey, she fixed her golden stare upon the Prince and smiled wide. 

“So, Stolas, tell us. Who exactly is this Imp that you’re so fond of?”

At the question, Stolas couldn’t help the full body blush that came over him. Just the mere mention of Blitzø sent his mind into a tornado of emotions. He glanced up at Marchosia and then Xuna, both looking at him with expectant and enthusiastic gazes. The Prince closed his eyes and sighed, realizing he wasn’t exactly getting out of the situation. He  **had** willingly accepted their afternoon tea invitation after all, knowing full well what the expectations were.

“My beloved Imp’s name is Blitzø. He is the proprietor and boss of I.M.P.”

Marchosia gave Stolas a confused yet intrigued look.

“I.M.P.?”

Stolas nodded before continuing.

“Immediate Murder Professionals. Sort of like murder for hire? Their targets used to only be residents of Hell, but now they’ve expanded to include targets up in the living world as well,” Stolas couldn’t keep the proud smile from creeping along his beak, “Gives them quite the advantage over the competition.”

Marchosia looked quite taken aback at Stolas’s admission.

“I have all the respect in the world for my wife’s demonic species, but for an Imp to hold such power so as to be able to access the Surface is quite a feat. I am honestly quite impressed.”

Stolas innocently scratched the side of his cheek, a look almost akin to skyness overtaking his features.

“Well, you see, that would be my doing. Blitzø and his employees' ability to access the living world is made possible because they have access to my book, my Grimoire to be precise.”

Both Marchosia and Xuna had looks of complete and utter shock on their faces, Marchosia far more than Xuna, as she had a Grimoire herself and knew the importance of such a book. You didn’t just go lending it out to other demons, not unless you wanted Lucifer on your doorstep and that was never good. 

There was obviously a story here and Marchosia demanded to hear it. Therefore, Stolas explained. He explained how Blitzø had come to him, supposedly for a business opportunity, and ended up seducing him. Looking back on it, it really wasn’t as if Blitzø really had to try that hard. Stolas had already been quite physically attracted to the Imp, and his forwardness had only increased that attraction. They had shared a lovely afternoon, filled with passion and ferocity that Stolas had never known until the Imp had jumped into his bed. It was utterly spectacular.

It was while Stolas slept off the afterglow that Blitzø had actually done what had come there to do; he had found and stolen the Grimoire. Now, while most demons would have been enraged by the whole ordeal, Stolas had merely found it to be entertaining, outright hilarious if he was being honest. His precious Imp had not only had the testicular fortitude to steal the Grimoire from right under his nose, but he also had jumped (fell) from his bedroom balcony, landed amongst his wife and closest friends while they were having tea, and then proceeded to gloatingly admit to having just fucked “her husband” before sarcastically apologizing for it. At least this was how it was conveyed to him by his wife later that night.

Xuna was in a fit of giggles, while Marchosia eyebrows were raised so high it was a miracle they had not jumped off her face.

“And so you just continue to let him keep it?”

Stolas shook his head in the negative.

“Not all the time. We recently established an agreement, an exchange so to speak. Every full moon he returns the book to me so I may perform my duties that day, leaving the rest of the night free for passionate lovemaking. I then give the book back, and he gets to keep it uninterrupted until the next midpoint of the lunar cycle.”

Xuna smiled as she happily leaned her body over the table, swaying her body back and forth, her tail swishing with amusement.

“Sounds like you have yourself a good fuck buddy there!”

The full body blush that Stolas had been sporting was back, though this time he was more cherry red than the Princess of Hell’s trademark cheek markings. Marchosia on the other hand had been taking a delicious sip of her tea, though now that portion of beverage was leaking out of her nose. The affronted Marchioness placed a paw over her chest and chastised her wife for such a comment, though Stolas shook his head.

“No, your wife is correct, and in that lies the problem,” Stolas brought his talons up and began rubbing the sides of his head, “I’ve always wanted more, but I just don’t know how to get it. I’ve tried using sex as a means to get closer to Blitzy, but he just keeps pushing me away, or rather refuses let me in.”

Stolas released his head and allowed his hands to fall to the table, a far off look overtaking his eyes.

“I feel like the harder I push, the thicker the wall gets, yet sometimes...just sometimes, I can see through the cracks. I can see the Imp that he doesn’t want me to see. The loving, caring Imp; the Imp who truly cares for his employees; the Imp that maybe, just maybe, cares for me too?” 

A lone tear trailed out from one of Stolas’s eyes. Xuna and Marchosia didn’t even believe the Prince was even aware of its presence.

“However, those cracks are soon filled up once more and he’s back to keeping me locked out. I honestly don’t know what to do.”

After Stolas’s emotional spill, Marchosia was quiet. Her silence stretched for a good thirty or forty-five minutes. Stolas was too preoccupied inside his own head to speak and every time Xuna tried, Marchosia would simply raise one of her paws and stop her before her sweet tones could flutter through the air. Before long, it seemed as if Marchosia had come to a decision, her wings fluttering and the fur on her tail puffing out as it twitched against the stone walkway.

“It seems to me that you  **both** need help in the relationship department.” 

A soft “huh” that sounded more like a gentle hoot escaped Stolas as he brought his attention out of his own head and back onto Marcosia who raised her paw in offer of an explanation.

“Blitzø obviously needs some guidance, a hand so to speak. Though honestly I am not surprised. He probably finds the idea of a powerful Goetia Prince, such as yourself, wanting anything more than sex from him laughable and honestly, you’re not helping matters.”

Stolas’s eyes grew wide. Was he seriously jeopardizing his relationship with Blitzø?

“Now, I don’t think you’re doing it on purpose, mind you, but let me ask you this Prince Stolas,” it was here that Marchosia looked Stolas square in the eyes, her honey drip orbs drilling into his crimson stained ones, “Have you ever been in love before? Truly in love? At any point in your life?”

**Had** Stolas ever been in love? Sure he had loved his parents and he loved his daughter more than life itself, but romantic love? His marriage had been arranged, a complete shame. It had actually been arranged since his birth so his parents had actually forbade him to form any lasting bonds with anyone outside of Stella. This was pretty much done through keeping him busy from his teen years onward, not that Stolas had minded. He had been introduced and educated in many new and interesting subjects; love had been the farthest thing from his mind.

That is, until Blitzø had walked into his life.

Stolas solemnly shook his head in the negative.

“No, I never had the chance to experience what love felt like. Not until my Blitzy.”

Marchosia nodded in understanding.

“Makes sense. Your approach screams inexperience and immaturity. You obviously love Blitzø very much, that much is certain, but unfortunately you are expressing it the only way us demons tend to know how. This is, again, merely enforcing what I believe to be Blitzø’s key issue; that you only want sex from him,” Marchosia lifted herself from the table at this point, motioning for her companions to follow her, “There are obviously other issues that we need to uncover, however, it will take a special hand to get to the root of those.”

Both Stolas and Xuna followed, almost like obedient hellhounds, Stolas completely confused while Xuna was just as animated as she always was. Stolas couldn’t keep his silence though as they walked from the garden and down the many halls of the Palace of the Marchioness.

“What do you mean by  _ a special hand _ ?”

Marchosia stopped mid-step before looking back and giving a predatory smile to the demonic Prince.

“Why, another fellow Imp of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](https://autistic-flower.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/bloodseiryu/)
> 
> Come yell with me about Helluva Boss (as well as Good Omens, Hazbin Hotel, Fallout, etc.) ♥


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had SO much fun writing this chapter. SO MUCH FUN! I equally hope everyone has as much fun reading it. Now, I have NOT forgotten about [A Ring of Passion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28795557/chapters/70617438), my muse just has seemingly latched onto this. I figure after another chapter or two I'll be able to glide back over and get a few chapters written for Ring. Do not despair my lovelies!! 
> 
> Honestly, I thought about adding more to this chapter but then said to myself, naw make 'em wait XD

Business had been slow for I.M.P as of late and Blitzø just couldn’t figure out why. They had the jingle, that had that one fantastic billboard (fuck you Moxxie),  **and** they had a handful of successfully completed jobs under their belt. Yet here Blitzø was, absentmindedly staring off into space while doodling on a scrap piece of paper he had sitting on the corner of his desk. It was like...it was like no one was interested in murder anymore. The adrenaline rush, the shower of blood, the thrill of having someone’s life in **your** hands; alright, maybe only he and his employees got to experience those things, but at least the customer got to walk away happy, right? Someone in their filthy life was finally punished and Blitzø and his people had proven that they did  **not** skimp on that punishment!

So what was the fucking deal? Hell, there wasn’t even any excitement going on around the office to entertain him! Moxxie and Millie were off being all  _ lovey dovey  _ somewhere and, while he could go spy on them, he just wasn’t feeling it today. He could go see what Loonie was up to, but she’d probably just ignore him like usual.

Again, boring.

Blitzø glanced down at the sketches he had been working on, mostly horses, him on horses, one of him and Loona, one of…

OH GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!

Blitzø balled up the scrap piece of paper and threw it across the room, it missing the trash can by nearly a few feet or so. Goddamn brain was so bored that he ended up drawing a picture of that horny owl bastard. Fuck. The last thing Blitzø needed were memories of that arsehole flooding his mind right now. Not that Stolas wasn’t good fodder when he needed a quick jerk off, but that was usually after he had a few good drinks in him. You see, alcohol mixed with a good orgasm made him pass out that much quicker, much faster than just a simple self given orgasm. Otherwise, he’d end up laying there in post-coital bliss and start thinking...thinking about...emotions. Basically, crap that didn't need to be thought about. Shite that kept one up at night, tears threatening to fall while your chest felt like it was going to explode. Yeah, Blitzø learned all that the hard way.

Just when Blitzø was contemplating shooting himself in the head for even a mediocre moment of that sought after high (he’d materialize back at some point), his telephone rang.

“Yeah what do you want?” 

Blitzø could tell it was Loona on the other side before she even spoke. Her sigh of indignation giving her away.

“There’s someone here who wants to see you about setting up a hit in the living world.”

Blitzø groaned and covered his face with his free hand. He then began waving it wildly through the air before pointedly slamming one of his claws down on the desk.

“What do we look like a hair salon? We don’t do walk-ins. We are a high class run business. Tell them to make an appointment and come back later.”

As desperate as Blitzø was, I.M.P had a strict  **appointments only** rule. Sure there were some exceptions (Stolas) but those were behind the scene exchanges that Blitzø really didn’t want to get into, even in his own mind. Besides, if they started bending the rules for everyone, I.M.P would become complete chaos and Blitzø prided himself on an orderly and smoothly run business. Just because Hell was insane didn't mean his company had to be. 

Loona was silent on the other end of the line for a few moments, presumably telling whoever it was they could go fuck right off, before her voice rang through once more.

“Yeah, they just flashed a wad of cash.”

Blitzø’s entire demeanor changed after hearing that. It was almost hilarious if not a bit sad.

“Well Loonie, stop being so rude to our guest and send them in! Mi casa, su casa - that’s our rule!”

“I thought our rule was…”

Before Loona could finish, Blitzø ended the call and quickly fixed up his attire. Someone with serious money had just waltzed right off the street and obviously needed  **his** help. He would be damned if he was going to screw this up. Jacket straightened, gloves pulled tight, legs crossed, a look of welcoming interest (yet a serious “I am the boss of this company” face), and Blitzø was ready for anything.

Almost anything.

You see, what walked through his office door was not some high class demonic client as Loona led him to believe. Flashed a wad of cash his voluptuous red arse. Blitzø crossed his arms and scowled at the thought of his daughter being won over by a mere 20$ or 30$. He would have to have a serious talk with her later. Her lies were worth way more than that after all. Didn’t he raise her right?!

No, that grievance was for a later date, maybe over dinner tonight. What was important was getting this nuisance out of his office.

“Listen moron, you better have a good reason for tricking my receptionist and sliding your unwanted arse into my office.”

Gone was the mask of professionalism. What lay on the table was a demon that didn’t take too kindly to being swindled out of his time. The worst of it though? Was that this demon could easily spread how easy it was to get into I.M.P with just a few dollar bills. Fuck he really needed to have that talk with Loona later.

Not that his pending client wasn’t cute, he’d give her that. Ink black hair that went down about mid-back, what looked to be a coffee coloured tartan dress with a tan coloured dress shirt underneath, well polished horns; honestly she could easily pass for Moxxie and MIllie’s daughter. Blitzø gave his head a hard and decent shake. Yeah, better not be thinking about that stuff right now.

This little Imp smiled up at him brightly, obviously not put off in the slightest by his rude behaviour.

“You’re the famous Blitzø I presume, yes?”

Famous? Well, Blitzø considered what he and his employees did as fucking amazing work, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say it made them famous. Ah, fuck it. The work they did was fucking fantastic, stupendous! It was so extravagant that it left a lasting mark on Hell itself! Demons were lining up for their services! Aside from today that is, but every business has its down days, right? Didn’t mean shite. They’d bounce right back tomorrow and they didn’t need this cheap arse client to do it.

“Yes I am and, listen sweetie, I don’t know what my receptionist out there told you, but we are run by appointment only, so if you could take your sweet little arse and get it out of my office I’d…”

Before Blitzø could finish his sentence, the little Imp quickly cut in.

“The Marchioness Marchosia wishes for you to take care of a target for her.”

Blitzø looked at her with an upturned eyebrow.

“The Marchiwhodidawhatnow?”

A true, from the stomach, bent over laugh erupted from the Imp that still stood in front of Blitzø’s desk. Okay, so she was really cute, adorable even. Blitzø watched as she wiped away some stray tears from the corner of her eyes.

“The Marchioness Marchosia. One of the Goetia Demons of Hell?”

Blitzø audibly heaved a heavy sigh as he slouched in his office chair, his hand once more covering his face in disdain, two fingers pinching his nose.

“Great. Another prissy rich arsehole that wants to weasel in on my time. I swear if this one tries to fuck me too I’m stepping out during the next Extermination.”

Blitzø may have been mumbling to himself, however, his guest had clearly still heard him considering the next words out of her mouth.

“Oh, I highly doubt that she would wish to fuck you. She’s happily married now, you see. Would rather be taken out herself during the next Extermination than break that vow, told me herself,” a nervous laugh escaped her lips, as if the mere thought of losing the Marchioness made her uneasy, “Plus, I would be quite put out if she did decide to cheat.”

It was at this moment that Blitzø really looked at his would be client, really looked at her. She was well put together, more so than an Imp of the city would normally be. Would ever be really. She also wore a crown, simple, stylish, yet very expensive. Could have easily stolen it Blitzø reasoned, but something about the style reminded him of the one Stolas occasionally wore. Also, it was at this time Blitzø noticed that she was also clutching the leather strap of a bag that was slung over one of her shoulders. Decent sized, fucking named-brand shite, enough to fit a few wads of cash in…

Blitzø sprung up from his slouching position and practically leaned all the way over his desk, eyes narrowing, mouth turned down in a suspicious frown.

“Who exactly are you?”

The client’s lost smile returned in full force, broader than ever, teeth showing as she stood as proud as her small stature would allow. Her voice was also filled with excitement, almost as if she had been expecting the question, awaiting it even; eager to convey the information. 

“My name is Xuna! I’m the wife of the Marchioness of course!”

Blitzø could feel his brain short circuit. This demon, this Imp, was married to, was the **wife** of a high ranking Goetia Demon. A pathetic, low-class, eating the crumbs from the bottom of the dumpster Imp was **married** to a Goetia Demon. A Marchi...Marchi...a **fucking** **Goetia Demon** saw worth and fell in love with a stupid, dirt sucking Imp and married her?!

Bullshite.

Blitzø was calling bullshite and his face screamed it. He didn’t need to be inches away from Xuna for her to tell that plus much more. She merely giggled before reaching into her bag.

“I figured you might need proof so I brought this along.”

Xuna’s dainty claws came out clasping, what looked to be, a newspaper clipping. It was perfectly cut, almost as if it was removed from its original home to be placed in some sort of scrapbook or some stupid sentimental shite like that. With quick reflexes, Blitzø snatched the paper and held it up to his face to read it.

It was dated a few years, not too long ago. It spouted some crap about a fancy ceremonial wedding, who was in attendance (not that many it seemed), what the fucking price tag was (cause of course that mattered to these people), who catered the damn thing, etc. What drew Blitzø’s eyes though was the picture. It was in black and white, but he could still make out the pair quite easily. One was a tall hellhound with quite the wingspan. She wore an extravagant gown, her tail visibly wagging if the blur near her arse was anything to go by, and a crown somewhat similar to the one Xuna was currently wearing lay atop her head. Next to her was an Imp. She wore a gown, not as extravagant, but no less beautiful. She also wore a crown, the exact one that Xuna was currently wearing.

Below the picture lay the words -  _ The Happily Wedded Couple. From Left to Right: Lady Xuna and Marchioness Marchosia. _

As much as Blitzø loathed to admit it, the smiles they wore truly spoke of just how happy and in love they were.

Fuck.

Just...fuck.

Fucking goddamn sonofabitch.

Just...fuck his whole goddamn life.

Blitzø hung his head when he handed the news clipping back to Xuna. The little Imp took it without fuss and placed it carefully back into her leather bag that hung next to her side. Xuna was not blind, she knew what was going through Blitzø’s head at this very moment. In fact, it had been the subject of conversation between Mari, Stolas, and herself before she had been sent out on this little mission. 

Step one had been to get into I.M.P and establish contact. That part had been easy. Mari had simply gone to her Grimoire and picked an influential name at random to be the “assassination target”. Then flash a handful of cash and Xuna would most certainly get an audience with Blitzø. Next was to expose Blitzø to Xuna’s life, the reality that was just out of his reach. Or rather, the reality that Blitzø  **thought** was just out of his reach, a reality that he deemed just a mere fantasy. The last step was to get Blitzø out of that fantasy. To figure out why he felt the things that he felt, what his insecurities stemmed from and what they (Stolas and Mari) could do to start that healing process and start breaking down those walls permanently. To do that, Xuna had to befriend him, give him that safe space where he could vent and bare himself without fear.

It was going to take some time but Xuna was willing to do anything for true love.

“Anyway, back at the task at hand. My wife wants you to kill someone and is willing to pay top dollar for it.”

Xuna reached into her bag once more and produced a sheet of notebook paper that had a name, address, and a photo attached of the person Mari wanted killed. Blitzø took the items before slouching back into his seat, rubbing at his eyes before looking at the information that had been given to him.

Fuck. He was so fucking tired all of a sudden.

“Who exactly is he?”

Xuna shrugged, the same sweet smile still plastered on her lips.

“Don’t know! Just some high profile politician she wants gone.”

Figured. The damn upper class always wanted some political arsehole taken out of the picture for some stupid reason or another. Who was Blitzø to complain though as long as it paid. Speaking of money, stacks of the stuff were currently being placed upon his desk. Blitzø’s eyes widened as he counted ten stacks of 100 dollar bills. 

10,000$

Blitzø’s wide eyes flicked up to Xuna’s, overwhelmed delight at such an amount mixed with confusion on his face.

“Uh, you do know that we usually get paid  **after** an assignment has been completed and the mark has been killed yeah?”

Xuna nodded as she finished spreading out, what was to be, partial payment, in front of Blitzø.

“Yes. However, this is merely half of the payment you and your employees will be receiving,” Xuna fished out a torn looking piece of paper and placed it on top of the stacks of bills, “On that, you will find an address here in Hell. After you successfully kill your target, you will bring proof of death there and the other 10,000$ will be given to you,” that sickeningly sweet smile was once again back to plague Blitzø with its presence, “Think of it as a half now, half later kind of deal!”

With dexterous claws, Blitzø quickly shoved the money he had been given into one of his desk drawers before locking it; almost as if he was afraid this was still some elaborate prank and the money would be taken away at a moment's notice. He then looked at the small ratty piece of paper with the pickup point scribbled on it. Blitzø scrunched his face as he continued to look at it. The address looked familiar, even sounded familiar when he spoke it aloud to himself, however, the damn location was just out of reach in his cranium. Sort of when you have that one word you wanna say and can’t quite think of it? Usually, Blitzø just substitutes with some kind of curse but that wouldn’t do here.

“Oh and one other thing.”

Blitzø’s head swiftly turned around to see Xuna on her way out of his office door.

“When you come to pick up the rest of the money, make sure you come alone, yeah? My wife doesn’t like too many cooks in the kitchen if you know what I mean.”

With that, Blitzø was now alone with his thoughts.

A Marchioness marries an Imp, wants some random political figure taken out, doesn’t tell her wife why; a wife that she is supposedly very close to and so in love with. Has said wife come and make the order instead of the Marchioness herself, effectively distancing her from the kill. Pays 10,000$ up front, almost like insurance that the job gets done, and  **then** offers to pay 10,000 more dollars at some super secret location that only Blitzø is allowed to come to?

Leaping over his desk, after he was sure that Xuna had vacated the building, Blitzø burst from his office and made his way over to Loona and her desk; the only desk that has a computer. He then briskly slid her and her chair far to the side, claiming that daddy has some important information to look up, before typing away like a demon possessed.

Which honestly would be quite ironic.

Typical news articles surrounding someone of her status came up, no surprise there. However, it is a collection of tabloids and a video from 666 News that catch his eye. Apparently, she had been married before Xuna, to a Marquis Aamon. Been married for quite some time actually. Apparently, though he passed away, leaving the Marchioness with everything. The 666 News stated that one of the Exorcists had broken into the Palace and had killed Aamon on Extermination Day. A tragedy if there ever was one.

The tabloids, however, told a different story.

Blitzø squinted at the information that was laid out before him, ignoring Loona’s griping about being pushed around (literally) and desperately wanting her computer back; she had been watching something on the VoxTube apparently.

The tabloids spoke of love, sex, power, and murder. They screamed that the Marchioness Marchosia had obtained one of the Holy Weapons from the black market and had used it to kill her, now deceased, husband. Their reasoning? First, the Exorcists had never been known to break into buildings before this. Second, Aamon had been rumored to be a ruthless brute, to both his wife, servants, and the associates who dared work with him. Lastly, there was Xuna. The  _ slutty  _ Imp who the Marchioness was rumoured to have been having a scandalous affair with. Their marriage shortly after the Marquis death did nothing but add fuel to the fire it seems.

Just who was this Marchioness Marchosia and, more importantly, just what did she want with him? 

**Author's Note:**

> My [Tumblr](https://autistic-flower.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/bloodseiryu/)
> 
> Come yell with me about Helluva Boss (as well as Good Omens, Hazbin Hotel, Fallout, etc.) ♥


End file.
